


Picket Fence

by blueb1rd



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueb1rd/pseuds/blueb1rd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people are excited about being assigned. It’s a rite of passage, a hallmark of adulthood. They don’t take into consideration the fact that they have no choice in the matter - it’s simpler this way. Gives them a sense of security.</p><p>Kurt Hummel is not most people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intention of writing an arranged marriage fic, but I saw[ this prompt](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/14588.html?thread=20745468#t20745468) on the kink meme and the idea wouldn't get out of my head. Thank you to the people on the[ KB WIP post](http://kurt-blaine.livejournal.com/3151354.html?thread=108577786#t108577786) that showed interest, [Lissa](http://a_glass_parade.livejournal.com) for the title inspiration, and an extra special thanks to [Katrina](http://gameboycolorfic.tumblr.com) who does awesome things like help me work out headcanon for this into the wee hours of the morning and tolerate my crazy. You're my favorite <3
> 
> Warnings for suicidal ideation in later chapters, other warnings on a chapter by chapter basis. none for this chapter.

Kurt knows why the laws were put in place.

  * To promote healthy unions
  

  * To prevent infidelity, STD’s, unwanted pregnancy, and simple human loneliness
  

  * To produce productive members of society based on the idea that if you are content at home it will have a positive impact on your quality of work and attitude towards your fellow man
  



  
He knows how the process works.

  * At twenty-one years of age citizens undergo a standard mental and physical health evaluation
  

  * If deemed eligible (and most people are), they are added to the national registry
  

  * At the end of the process unions are assigned based on compatibility, factoring in likes and dislikes, sexual preference, health history, and religious and political beliefs.
  



  
There’s a twelve month trial period, at the end of which either party can request a termination. It gives an illusion of choice, but is mostly a formality. Government approval is needed for any relationship termination, and is rarely awarded. Ninety-nine times out of one hundred you’re stuck with your assigned partner for life.

Most people are excited about being assigned. It’s a rite of passage, a hallmark of adulthood. They don’t take into consideration the fact that they have no choice in the matter - it’s simpler this way. Gives them a sense of security.

Kurt Hummel is not most people.

He’s resigned to his fate - he’s been aware that things would be this way since he was a child - but he’s not happy about it. He doesn’t think he could ever be happy about it. He’s his own person, always has been, with his own thoughts and ideas and he has never, ever liked the idea of someone else making decisions for him. Especially not big decisions, ones that are going to drastically effect his future.

But, logically, he knows he’s lucky.

His GAS (Government Assigned Spouse) lives in Westerville, just two hours away. He could have been assigned to someone who lived halfway across the country and gone through the unpleasant process of fighting for them to live here. He could have lost that battle and ended up being shipped all the way to California or Alaska or some other place far away from his family and friends and everything he calls home.

Blaine (that’s his name - Blaine Anderson) could have been ugly. It’s a shallow thing to worry about, Kurt knows, but he can’t help it. He’d been relieved when he’d opened the file and found the photo attached to be that of a very nice looking young man. Dark, curly hair (too much product, but maybe he didn’t know any better), big brown eyes, and a charming smile. Kurt prefers taller boys, but he isn’t going to complain about the fact that Blaine is two inches shorter than him. He won’t feel at all embarrassed about being seen with him in public, and that’s all that matters.

Blaine has a nice job, too, earning a respectable salary for someone in their age range and with plenty of opportunity for future advancement. From what Kurt can tell from his file, Blaine is responsible and dependable. He is popular and respected among his peers and well liked by his superiors.

It could be worse. It could be a lot worse. But somehow that’s still not enough to reconcile Kurt to the idea that in three weeks he has to pack up his belongings and start a new life with a complete stranger.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably would never have finished this chapter without [Katrina](http://gameboycolorfic.tumblr.com) helping develop massive head canon for this story and cheering me on. She's the bestest <3

Blaine Anderson stands in front of his new home and feels the weight of the keys resting in his palm. The air around him feels heavy with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Anticipation. This is it - the moment when his old life ends and the new one begins. He smiles, just a little, and looks up, allowing his gaze to drift slowly over the starter house. Taking stock.

It’s not as large as the house he grew up in, but it’s more than enough for the two to three people it was designed for. It’s two stories high and painted a neutral off-white with warm, golden-brown trim. There’s a large bay window on the first floor through which he can see a glimpse of what appears to be the dining room, and a tiny balcony on the second. Over all it’s pretty standard, but starter houses are meant to be that way - cut from the same cookie cutter mold, a blank slate for new couples to personalize and make their own. It feels like a promise, like hope.

He can’t help but smile at that feeling.

After taking a deep breath and looking for just a few moments longer, he makes his way up the path and to the front door. He unlocks it, pushes it open, and then... he’s here. He’s inside.

The entry way is big and open. From where he’s standing just inside the door he has a clear view of the living room and, yes, what he’d correctly assumed to be the dining room. The walls inside are the same off-white color as the exterior, just waiting for a fresh coat of paint to bring them to life. The furniture is basic, but looks comfortable enough. Everything is bright and warm, yellows and whites and reds and glowing wood. Save for the paint, the walls are bare. Blaine closes his eyes for a moment and imagines the things they’ll hang there - childhood photos, family portraits, paintings they find in cosy little art galleries.

The file says Kurt likes art.

Blaine hasn’t actually met him yet. It’s not unusual for matched couples to arrange to meet before the official move in date and Blaine had even sent Kurt a polite, carefully worded email (trying not to sound too over eager) inviting him to coffee. But Kurt had turned him down. He had too much to do, he’d said, with packing up his belongings and preparing for the move. Blaine’s disappointed, but he understands. Moving is a nerve-wracking process for anyone.

And technically their move in date is _tomorrow_ , but Blaine hadn’t been able to wait. Hadn’t been able to sleep or eat or sit still without _knowing_ , without seeing this place the new life he was so eager to start would begin.

He wants to settle in, to make the starter house more homelike before Kurt arrives. Make sure his new life-mate would feel welcome and positive about this change in their circumstances. Make sure he does everything he possibly can to ensure that Kurt will _like_ him.

They’d been matched based on potential compatibility, same as every other government sanctioned union, but that wasn’t a guarantee. There’s only so much you can know about a person from a few questionnaires and personality quizzes - at the end of the day the Union Assignment Committee does little more than make an educated guess. They boast a sixty-eight percent success rate, but that still leaves a thirty-two percent margin of error.

Blaine isn’t worried about what he’ll think of Kurt. There’s something about the tiny wallet-sized photo that came with the file (the one that, yes, Blaine has been carrying around in _his_ wallet for the past three weeks), about Kurt’s face and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, that makes Blaine just _know_. He’s going to like Kurt. He’s going to more than like him.

But who knows what Kurt is thinking about _him_? Blaine had been in the registry for _eight months_ before he’d been matched - the average waiting time is only four. For a while he’d thought there was something wrong with him. That he was unmatchable. Getting Kurt’s file in the mail had been... oh God, it had felt like a _miracle_ , like the best day of his life. The tight knot of anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach for months had finally loosened, and he could breathe again.

Until the move in date kept getting closer and closer. Now he can’t help thinking that maybe the registry office was just desperate to get him out of their system. That Kurt had been a good match for Blaine, but maybe he wasn’t a good match for Kurt. Or even if he was, _on paper_ , maybe it won’t translate into real life. Maybe Kurt won’t love him. Maybe Kurt won’t even like him. After all, Blaine’s nothing special. Average intelligence, stupid hair, goofy smile. The only thing remotely remarkable about him is his voice, and according to the file (and, all right, he’ll admit it - he’d done some internet sleuthing) Kurt is an impressive vocalist, too.

There is no guarantee that this will go as well as he has always hoped.

But he pushes those thoughts aside. He can’t worry about it now, not when everything is so close to beginning. He just has to focus on doing his best to make Kurt comfortable, being the best _everything_ that he can possibly be. And that starts with acquainting himself with their new home.

He moves through the first floor with his ears perked like an interested, excited puppy, peeking into rooms as he finds them. In addition to the living room and dining room there is a decent sized kitchen outfitted with shiny new appliances and a small breakfast nook, a half bath, and a tiny back room with a desk and computer chair squeezed in. The back yard, viewed through the windows, isn’t _large_ , but there’s enough room for a picnic table and a small grill. Maybe a swing - a swing would be nice.

He pauses for a moment, picturing summer cook outs in his head. Kurt at the grill (his file says he likes to cook), Blaine smoothing a table cloth over the picnic table and setting up plates and napkins. They’ll chat as they work, tell each other about their day, laugh over private jokes.

It’s been like this since he’d been matched. Before that, if he’s being completely honest. The moment the clock struck twelve a.m. on his twenty-first birthday he’d boarded a crazy roller coaster ride of alternating anxiety and euphoria, and he has yet to get off. Tomorrow, he hopes. Tomorrow he’ll meet Kurt and he’ll know for sure, one way or the other.

He makes his way up the stairs and finds that most of the upper floor is taken up with a wide, open space - similar to the layout down stairs. There’s an empty book case and a cosy looking chaise lounge, and big, glass paneled double doors leading out onto the small balcony he’d seen from the front path.

The first door he opens leads to a tiny bedroom, meant for guests or a first child. It’s simple and bare, save for a bed and a small end table. The upstairs bathroom, right next door, is spacious and bright with a big tub just perfect for bubble baths.

And then there’s the master bedroom, the most intimate space he’ll share with Kurt.

Like the rest of the house, there’s plenty of room for improvement and personalization, but Blaine can already see the potential. They’ll change the curtains to match the comforter set they’ll pick out together, maybe add a rug. They’ll put up pictures and knickknacks, hang their clothing side by side in the closet. Little things, like that. Little things that make a place feel like home.

Blaine spends the next two hours unpacking the car and finding places to put his belongings - just temporarily, of course, pending Kurt’s approval. Three photo frames go on the mantel in the living room. One contains a picture of six year old Blaine, curls running wild and freckles smattering his face, proudly displaying his first missing tooth. The next is a family portrait, taken when he was twelve or thirteen. The third is his favorite. It was taken in high school and shows Blaine surrounded by the Warblers, most of whom he’s still in contact with, and who have always made up his closest friends.

His favorite coffee mug (there’s nothing special about it - just plain white with a bow tie etched on one side - his aunt had made it for him for Christmas one year) finds a place in the kitchen cabinet nearest the sink. An old throw blanket, one that had been in his parents’ house for as long as he can remember but no one seemed to care about but him, is draped over the living room sofa. He hangs his clothing up in the master bedroom’s closet, first on the left, then shoved to the right, then pushed to the middle to make sure Kurt would know he’s not trying to stake a claim one way or the other. He puts some of his books in the shelves upstairs, because they looked so bare and lonely, and the rest (his favorite) on a side table in the living room.

The house is already furnished, of course, so there’s no real heavy lifting. Blaine considers this to be fortunate - manual labor has never been one of his strong suits. Despite this, by the time he’s finished he’s tired enough not to want to fuss over dinner. He leans against the kitchen counter, eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, downs half a glass of milk, and goes up to bed.

\--

Sunlight is streaming in through the windows when he blinks slowly awake the next morning, stretching and rolling on his back. He finds himself smiling up at the ceiling - so this is what it’s like to wake up in your own home and know that in a matter of hours there would be someone to share it with.

It has to be the nicest thing he’s ever felt.

Blaine just lays there for a bit, day dreaming. He wonders which side of the bed Kurt likes to sleep on. He’s always preferred the left, himself, but he’s willing to give the right a try if his husband (he feels like a teenager, but he can’t help the little flutter he experiences every time he thinks that word) asks him to.

He pictures them waking up together, sleepy chuckles as one of them accidentally smacks into the other (light enough not to hurt) while stretching. Sharing the ridiculous things they’d dreamed the night before. Discussing their plans for the day. His heart _aches_ with how much he wants this life, and he feels a giddy thrum at the knowledge that in twelve hours it will officially begin.

But he can’t stay in bed day dreaming forever. He’s not a morning person, not really, and he usually prefers to sleep in and stay lazing if he has the opportunity. But this is a big day, and he doesn’t want to waste one more minute of it.

So he rolls out of bed and stretches up, standing on his tippy toes and yawning widely, scratching at his stomach before he makes his way into the bathroom to shuffle sleepily through his morning routine. In no time at all he’s showered and brushed his teeth, and back in the bedroom rubbing a towel through his dripping wet hair, another slung low on his waist. He flicks on the radio and drops his hair towel on the floor, grinning as he shakes his head like a dog and stands in front of the mirrored closet doors.

Music’s always been that thing for him, the thing he could count on to help him relax, boost his confidence. And the song playing right now is... it’s silly, and _audacious_ , but it’s exactly what he needs to gear himself up for the day ahead.

He can’t help singing along, even snatches his brush off the bed side table to use as a make shift microphone. Blaine adds in some make shift choreography, dancing around the room using old Warblers moves - snapping and two stepping and grinning like an idiot. It’s _fun_ , ridiculous and frivolous and all of the things he doesn’t allow himself to be except behind closed doors. He loses himself in the moment, spinning around as he sings “ _you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight_ ”...

...And finds himself face to face with three astonished strangers standing in the doorway at the exact moment the towel falls from his hips.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uh. Dude." A very tall, awkward looking young man is the first to break the silence. "You know you're naked, right?" His voice is slow and gentle, like what he's saying might come as a shock to Blaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> continued thanks to Katrina for betaing and helping me plot this out <3 and thanks to everyone who has expressed interest and left me comments and notes. I love you all!

“It’s bland.” Kurt is standing in the doorway of his new home holding a laundry basket full of miscellaneous belongings, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“It’s a starter house, honey,” Carole points out with a friendly shoulder pat. “They’re meant to be simple, so you can embellish them.”

This house is going to need a lot of embellishment. The furniture is basic and outdated and he assumes the color scheme was designed by grade school children, because that’s what all the evidence points to. He supposes he can see some potential - the layout’s not bad, he can work with the basic shape of the rooms - but all in all it’s a disappointment. This is not the house he’d choose to live in.

But then, he doesn’t _have_ a choice, does he?

He makes a non-committal humming sound and sets his basket on the floor, pushed out of the way. “I guess it’s good I have an eye for decorating, then.”

Finn pokes his head in the door and peeks surreptitiously about. “Where is he?” he wants to know.

Kurt shoots him a glare. He hadn’t been very pleased when he’d found his new husband’s car parked in the driveway. Kurt had wanted to arrive first, get the lay of the land, have an inch or two of advantage in his corner during this initial meeting. Having _this_ wish thwarted on top of so many others has him bristling with irritation.

“I’m not his keeper,” he grouses uncharitably. “How am I supposed to know? Maybe he left.”

“His car's still there.”

“He has legs!! Maybe he _walked_.” And, with any luck, had been carried off by a bear or hit by a bus in the process.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and suppresses a sigh because he knows he’s being unfair. It isn’t Blaine’s fault that he exists, that the laws had been put into place twenty years ago, and that he’d been selected as the most eligible match for Kurt. For all Kurt knew, Blaine could be just as against this as he was. They could be allies, fighting side by side for the right to make their own decisions.

Since he’s never met anyone who shared his opinions on this, however, he isn’t going to hold his breath.

“Let’s just finish looking around, shall we?” He suggests, because thinking about his new government assigned lifemate is giving him a head ache.

Kurt decides he likes the kitchen. It’s smaller than the one at home - at his father’s house, not home now, he’ll have to get used to that - but this one will be his to organize and run as he chooses. He’s sure of that. If there is one area of this house he will have full reign over, it _will_ be the kitchen. He’s stubborn enough to make it happen.

The office, if one can even call it that, leaves a lot to be desired. Mostly in space. He’d like his own desk, with his own drawers. Drawers that lock. He doesn’t want some stranger poking through his personal things.

The sound of a door closing upstairs makes everybody jump guiltily, like they’re snooping in someone else’s house. They exchange sheepish glances and Finn lets out a nervous chuckle.

“He’s home, dude.”

“Thank you, Finn.” Kurt rolls his eyes and makes his way to the foot of the stairs. “I don’t know how we would survive without your astute observations.”

“Okay!” Carole cuts in before Finn can ask what ‘astute’ means (but Kurt can already see the question forming in his eyes - he makes a mental note to get Finn a pocket dictionary for Christmas). She’s seen enough of their squabbles to know they’re likely to get carried away and digress into random avenues of conversation, like how Kurt had hogged the orange juice that morning, but Finn had shrunk Kurt’s favorite sweater in the wash last year. “Why don’t we go up and introduce ourselves?”

This is the opposite of what Kurt wants to do. He plants his feet more firmly in the carpet, as if someone is going to attempt to physically drag him up the stairs. He experiences an unpleasant swoop of nerves in the pit of his stomach. What he _wants_ to do is hop in the car and drive as far away as he can as fast as he can. Because this is it, the point of no return. Walking up those stairs and saying hello to this _stranger_ means his old life is really over, and he _doesn’t want to do it_.

He looks to Carole and he knows he doesn’t have to say it out loud for her to read the question _do I have to?_ in his eyes, but it’s Finn who slings a bracing arm around his shoulders.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, bro,” Finn says, reminding Kurt that he actually does love his step-brother. Finn sometimes misses the obvious and has an unbelievable knack for putting his foot in his mouth, but he also has surprising moments of clear headed insight. He’s smarter than people realize. “But waiting’s just gonna make you dread it more. You’ve got to get it over with quick, like ripping off a band aid. It’s not _fun_ but at least it’s over, you know?”

Yeah, Kurt knows. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows.

He turns his head towards the stairs again, looking up. He breathes out in a resigned huff. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Finn gives his shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand, and they all head up the stairs.

There’s the music playing now, leading them towards what Kurt assumes is the door they’d heard slamming shut. Someone (Blaine, he guesses, which only serves to make his steps drag even slower across the carpeted floor) is singing along. He’s not half bad, either, which almost makes Kurt dislike him more. Music is _his_ thing - he doesn’t want to share it. Not with Blaine.

Finn, in typical Finn fashion, has already bounded across the floor and is bouncing on his heels in front of it, like the four extra seconds it takes his mother and step-brother to follow him are a very great trial to him. Kurt rolls his eyes. “If you’re so eager to meet him you’re more than welcome to take my pla- wait, don’t!” He breaks off as Finn’s hand goes to the door knob, but it’s already too late. The door is flung open and there’s Blaine, right there in front of them, wide eyed and panting and very, very naked.

\--  
They're just staring, and Blaine can't do anything. He's frozen in place, every molecule that makes up his body screeching to a halt because _oh God_ that's Kurt, that's Kurt and (he assumes) his family and _Blaine is completely naked_.

He squeezes his eyes shut. This can't be happening. It's a nightmare, that's all there is to it, because this? It doesn't happen in real life.

Except, apparently, to him.

"Uh. Dude." A very tall, awkward looking young man is the first to break the silence. "You know you're naked, right?" His voice is slow and gentle, like what he's saying might come as a shock to Blaine.

But. Um. _Yeah_. Yeah he knows. He is acutely aware of this fact.

It breaks the spell, however, and he's able to make a quick scramble for the towel and haphazardly cover his... his _everything_. "I'm, I'm so - oh my God - I'm so sorry," he sputters, face burning. "I didn't think - d-didn't expect... _fuck_." This is a disaster. This is the biggest disaster in the history of disasters. He can't remember feeling this humiliated since he'd had an unfortunate bladder control incident at a sleep over in _first grade_.

Thankfully, the woman with Kurt took mercy on him. "We'll just give you some privacy," she says, tugging on the tall boy's arm and stepping back out of the room. "Kurt? You coming?"

And then, _only_ then, does Blaine allow himself to direct his gaze towards Kurt's face.  
He's still staring at Blaine, at the place just above where the towel has been clumsily re-wrapped around his waist. There are bright patches of color on his cheeks.

But after a moment he seems to snap back to himself. He clears his throat and averts his eyes, turning quickly on his heel and striding down the stairs without a word.

The woman favors him with an apologetic grimace and shuts the door. Privacy. Privacy at last.  
He sinks to the floor and covers his face with his hands, letting out an agonized groan. All he'd wanted to do was make a good impression. Well. He'd certainly screwed that up, hadn't he?

\--

Kurt gives Finn a sharp shove between the shoulder blades as soon as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Ow!!” Finn stumbles and catches his balance, but feels compelled to complain anyway. “What was that for?”

“Not knocking!” Finn and Carole take a seat on one of the sofas (Well, Carole takes a seat. Finn just kind of flops into a sloppy sprawl.) while Kurt paces the floor, hands flailing. “What kind of person doesn’t knock? Were you born in a barn?”

“You’re not really blaming this on me, are you?” Finn demands. Kurt just shoots him a look. “Oh, come on! It’s not like I knew he was gonna be naked! And it’s not like you seemed to _mind_.”

Kurt flushes, the wave of embarrassment only increasing his ire. He’d hoped no one would notice that, but _of course_ Finn had. Just to spite him.

It hadn’t been something he could help. He was only human, after all. He just never expected Blaine to be so... physically appealing. He’d also never expected to see so much of him, especially not during their initial encounter. Can he be blamed for finding it all a bit overwhelming?

“Shut up,” is his very mature response to that.

“Boys...” Carole says in a warning voice, but the sound of footsteps turns their collective attentions towards the stairs.

Blaine’s hair is still damp and sticking up at odd angles, and it’s clear he’d dressed in a hurry. Bare feet, khaki slacks, and a rumpled blue sweater. Bland but mostly harmless, like the house. Like Blaine, probably - distracting abdominal muscles aside.

“I am so, so sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. His face is still bright red and he looks like he’s wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Kurt almost feels sorry for him. Then he remembers he’s decided firmly not to care.

“I didn’t expect anyone to... to be here this early,” Blaine explains, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s fine that you are. _Of course_ it’s fine. I just - I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh bless your heart, sweetie, don’t worry about it!” Carole is quick to say, smiling at him in that warm way she has that tends to put people at ease. “We should have knocked, it’s not your fault at all. Besides, we’re going to be family now - I’m sure in a few years we’ll have enough embarrassing moments tallied up we won’t even remember this one! Now, I’m Carole Hummel,” she shifts to her feet and reaches out to grasp Blaine’s hands, “and these are my boys Finn and, of course, Kurt.”

Kurt reluctantly extends his hand, acknowledging the introduction with an awkward nod. His only comfort is that Blaine looks just as nervous about this as he is - maybe even more, what with the whole accidental nudity thing. “Hi.” It’s an absurdly simple greeting for a meeting like this, with the guy he’s stuck spending the rest of his life with, and Kurt feels momentarily foolish.

But Blaine smiles, just slightly, and ducks his head. “Hi, Kurt. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Kurt can’t say the same, of course, so he just gives him a strained smile in return. He feels stupid, like a kid at a middle school dance with the weight of other people’s expectations on his shoulders. He doesn’t want to dance. He doesn’t even want to be here. He’d rather have stayed at home and watched TV.

\--

Blaine helps them unload the car and Kurt tries not to be outwardly irritated by how eager he is about it. About _everything_. They’ve known each other less than two hours at this point and Blaine already seems enamored with Kurt’s family and, even more unsettling, with Kurt himself. Every time he dares to make eye contact he finds Blaine staring back at him with wide, hopeful eyes and it’s... it’s disconcerting.

This is why he didn’t _want_ this. Why he would have done anything he possibly could to avoid it. He has no desire to take on the responsibility of keeping another human being -a _stranger_ \- happy and well adjusted. He’s twenty-one years old, he’s not even good at being well adjusted himself.

After all of Kurt’s things are deposited in the entryway and living room, Carole and Finn say their goodbyes. It’s a two hour drive back to Lima, and Carole wants to get home in time to make Burt lunch.

Kurt knew this was coming, of course. This had always been the plan, and even if they’d been able to stay for the rest of the day there’s no way they could stay for the rest of his _life_. This point of separation has always been coming.

But knowing it’s coming and actually being faced with the moment are two very different things, and Kurt finds himself completely unprepared for the latter. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” he’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide and voice desperate as he clings to Carole’s hands. “Just for a little while.” He’s acting like a child afraid to go to a sleep over, and he knows he should feel embarrassed about that but he doesn’t.

The sad smile Carole gives him lets him know she understands. She pulls him to her in a tight hug and kisses the top of his head. “You’re going to be fine, Kurt,” she whispers, and it helps, how certain she seems of that. “You’re a good kid, and you’re strong. You’re going to be fine.”

He doesn’t trust his voice not to waver so he just nods as he pulls away. Finn ruffles his hair affectionately and Kurt can’t even find it in himself to be mad about it for once. He stands back a little as they say goodbye to Blaine. Carole, typically, pulls him into a hug as well and Kurt can’t help tilting his head at the way Blaine melts right into it. It’s just... it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Being so comfortable and eager for physical contact with someone he’d only just met. Kurt’s never been like that, he’s never understood it. He files it away as another reason this entire thing is stupid and why a computer shouldn’t be allowed to make his choices for him.

\--

As much as he’d liked Carole and Finn, Blaine can’t help but feel grateful when they’re gone and it’s just the two of them. He’d felt overwhelmed, _surrounded_ , from the moment the bedroom door had been unexpectedly wrenched open and watching them drive away is an undeniable relief.

Or at least it is until he’s leaning back against the door and staring at Kurt, with absolutely nothing intelligent to say.

“Your family is nice,” he finally manages, when the silence stretches on long enough that he’s beginning to worry it might be permanent.

Kurt shrugs and looks around the room - everywhere except directly at Blaine. Blaine tries not to let it sting. “Thanks, I guess. I like them. I mean,” he adds, “of course I like them - they’re my family. That’s kind of how that works.”

“Right.”

There’s another pause. Blaine rushes to fill it before it grows stifling. “Do you want some breakfast or something?” It’s the first the he can think of. “I’m not a great cook but I can scramble an egg.”

Kurt rubs at the back of his neck. “Um, no thanks. You go ahead. I think I’m just going to unpack.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll help y-”

“No!” Kurt breaks in quickly, and there’s no way around it this time - it does sting. “No that’s fine. I’ve got it. I um, I’m very particular about my things,” he explains. “I like them just so. Don’t like other people touching them. It’s nothing personal, just... the way I am.”

It _feels_ personal, though, and Blaine’s shoulders slump. “That’s... understandable, I guess,” he says anyway, because he’s not going to do anything to risk pushing Kurt away, not so soon. “Let me know if I need to move anything in the bedroom.”

“Right. Yeah. About that.” Kurt bites his lip and shifts his weight from foot to foot. “There’s a guest room, right?” Blaine feels another weight settle in his stomach, and nods. “I was thinking I could maybe move in there? I mean, we don’t really know each other and it might... make things a little easier. While we’re settling in.”

Blaine closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push back the waves of disappointment. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be a fresh start, an end to his old life. Instead, right now, it just looks like more loneliness.

But not forever, right? _While we’re settling in_ , that meant there was an end point in sight. His voice is still small when he answers. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure. Whatever you - whatever will make you feel more comfortable.”

Kurt’s relief is as immediate as it is obvious. He grins - the first _real_ smile he’s directed at Blaine since they met. “Great! Thank you, thanks.” He picks up one of the boxes his stuff is packed away in, and starts for the stairs. “So I’ll just go do that. Enjoy your breakfast, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” But suddenly he’s not hungry anymore.


End file.
